


Impose

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Bakemonogatari, Monogatari series - Fandom
Genre: Banter, F/F, Flirting, Groping, Inline with canon, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-03 01:31:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21171200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Senjougahara stood her in the middle of the tiled square as soon as they entered, turned the water to sluice heat over Tsubasa’s hair and coursing across her bare skin, and when hands came out to slide soap-slick over Tsubasa’s body it was Senjougahara’s pressing against her back and working up against the back of her neck to dig suds into the tangled weight of her hair." Senjougahara and Hanekawa share a shower.





	Impose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cjburggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjburggie/gifts).

“It’s just like I told you.” Senjougahara’s hands slide up Tsubasa’s back, the spread of her fingers sweeping along the shape of Tsubasa’s shoulderblades to follow the curve up to the loose ends of her short-cut hair. “This is a much better way for a high school girl to live.”

Tsubasa can’t argue with that. It’s not as if she was under any delusions about the suitability of living in an abandoned building during the hours she isn’t permitted to remain within the walls of their high school. Senjougahara is completely right about the foolishness of the idea, and the relative danger in which a isolated high school girl might find herself, and the vastly increased comfort offered by even the narrow space that they are both sharing, now.

Tsubasa agrees with everything Senjougahara has expressed in the general sense. It’s only in the specifics, and the value of turning any of that worry onto herself, that they disagree.

Tsubasa is imposing. She was imposing even at the start, a fact which Senjougahara made clear as much with her announcement of her concern as in the actual invitation she issued with all the force of a demand. If it were someone else, or if the statement were presented in a different way, Tsubasa thinks she would have smiled and nodded and utterly disregarded the concern Senjougahara showed on her behalf. But Senjougahara isn’t the kind of person one can push off, however well-practiced one may be in deflecting concern, and in the end the commands she issued with the barest self-aware gesture towards making them polite requests were too much for Tsubasa to resist.

And now they’re here, where Tsubasa felt on some level she could have predicted they would end up: sharing the narrow space of Senjougahara’s shower, the heat of the spray fogging the glass door and misting the air around them white with steam. Tsubasa’s glasses remain outside, her vision as hazed by their absence as by the steam billowing around them, but she doesn’t need to be able to see much under the circumstances anyway. Senjougahara stood her in the middle of the tiled square as soon as they entered, turning the water to sluice heat over Tsubasa’s hair and coursing across her bare skin, and when hands came out to slide soap-slick over Tsubasa’s body it was Senjougahara’s touch pressing against her waist and working up against the back of her neck to dig suds into the tangled weight of her hair.

“I’m not claiming I live in a mansion,” Senjougahara says from where she’s standing at Tsubasa’s back. Her fingers slide up higher. When she tightens her grip Tsubasa feels the edge of nails scratch over her scalp to work the soap deeper against her hair. It’s an effort to keep from canting her head to the side and purring into the pressure. “But it’s better than an empty schoolhouse. Who knows what sort of untoward things might have happened to you there?”

“No one knew I was there,” Tsubasa points out, a voice of reason in an insane world. Perhaps that makes her the mad one, to not fit in with the structure of the life she actually leads. “If someone had I would have found someplace else to go.”

“That’s right,” Senjougahara says. “Someone did. Lucky for you it was your loving classmate and not someone else.”

Senjougahara’s fingers are working in against the back of Tsubasa’s ear. Tsubasa closes her mouth on the hum of pleasure working in her chest and offers speech instead. “Someone else,” she says. “Like who?”

“Anyone,” Senjougahara says, in tones that say she could write several lurid novels on the subject and is only refraining from such due to consideration of the natural delicacy of the girl she is with. Her fingers slide down the side of Tsubasa’s neck to follow the path of the water trickling down collarbones before spreading out over the soft rise of her breasts. “You have to be more careful with yourself, Hanekawa. You’re a terrible temptation.”

“I see,” Tsubasa says. “A temptation to whom?”

“Anyone,” Senjougahara says, landing the beat with the accuracy of a musician reciting a well-known refrain. “Men.”

“Men?”

“Boys.”

“Araragi?”

“Maybe.” Senjougahara’s palm slides down. There’s still soap foaming against her fingers to smooth the friction of her touch against Tsubasa’s skin, although the water splashing over them is rinsing the suds loose to spread and trickle over the curve of Tsubasa’s breasts. “He’s going to be so jealous when I tell him about this.”

“Will you?” Tsubasa asks. She’s leaning back against Senjougahara behind her. The shower is so small it’s difficult to maintain any consistent distance between them at all, and besides Senjougahara’s arm is wrapping around her to urge her back into the support of the other’s shoulder. Senjougahara’s breasts are crushed soft and heavy against her back. Tsubasa shifts her weight to curve her spine and flex her shoulders to motion against Senjougahara. “Are you going to tell him everything?”

“Everything,” Senjougahara vows. Her hand slides farther, her fingers reach to cup under Tsubasa’s breast and take the weight of it in her grip. “In detail enough to satisfy even Kanbaru.”

“We weren’t talking about Kanbaru.”

“Were we not?” Senjougahara tips forward. Tsubasa can feel the press of Senjougahara’s nipples against her back. “Of course. That must be my mistake. Sorry.”

“You don’t sound very apologetic.”

“Do I not?” Senjougahara’s fingers slide sideways. Her thumb draws over the flushed dark of Tsubasa’s areola in a slow circle. “How dreadful of me.” Her hold tightens against the rising point of Tsubasa’s nipple. Tsubasa’s back curves, her head tips back to lean into Senjougahara’s shoulder behind her. Senjougahara lets her go, leaving Tsubasa to steady the support of her knees as that wandering hand follows the track of the water sliding over her breasts and down across the flat of her stomach. “Did I hurt you?”

Tsubasa takes a breath of steam and shakes her head without moving to return to standing. “No.”

“Oh?” Senjougahara’s fingers spread wider, her littlest trailing down to reach for the dip of Tsubasa’s navel. “Sorry.”

“Why do you sound apologetic  _ now_?”

“Bad luck,” Senjougahara says. “Sincerity and sarcasm are so hard to distinguish, don’t you find?”

“Mm.” Tsubasa feels Senjougahara’s fingers slipping over her skin, feels the shivering friction of contact marking out the path of water spilling between her breasts, pouring across her belly, wandering down to soak the dark curls between her thighs where she can feel a heat starting to ache in time with the nipple Senjougahara teased to tension. She slides one foot against the floor of the shower, just far enough to ease the pressure of her thighs against each other. “Aren’t you cold out of the water?”

“I run warm,” Senjougahara tells Tsubasa, and dips her hand down farther. Her fingers wander into dark curls to offer the same tension she scratched against Tsubasa’s scalp a few minutes ago. Tsubasa tips her knees a little wider. Senjougahara’s hand slides down. “You must be chilled to the bone, sleeping outside all those nights alone.”

“That was hours ago,” Tsubasa says, as more of a statement than a protest. “I’m plenty warm now.”

“That’s good,” Senjougahara tells her. “I pride myself on being a good host. It’s vital to make sure my guests are comfortable.” Her fingers reach between Tsubasa’s legs, her touch draws up to press against the heat of the other girl’s body. Tsubasa breathes out a silent exhale and lets her hips rock forward to urge Senjougahara’s touch to greater force. Senjougahara shifts her hand to brace her thumb against Tsubasa’s hips and gain a better angle for the slide of her fingers reaching to unfold the heat of Tsubasa’s body. Tsubasa lifts her hand from her side to wrap the support of her hand against the back of Senjougahara’s neck so she can steady herself.

“I do hope you’ll tell me if there’s anything else you need,” Senjougahara says. Her lips are very close to Tsubasa’s ear; it’s only because she is speaking with a soft tone that Tsubasa doesn’t flinch away from the sound so near against her. “I gain such satisfaction from helping others.”

Senjougahara’s fingers are sliding between Tsubasa’s thighs, her touch dragging heat over the other girl’s clit. Tsubasa’s steady on her legs, even with the tile wet beneath her heels, but she can feel the sensation starting to tighten against the tops of her thighs, can feel her back arching as heat rises into the lowest point of her belly. She blinks into the fog filling the shower and eases her hold to stroke against the back of Senjougahara’s neck. “You’re so charitable.”

“Self-sacrificing to a fault,” Senjougahara tells her. “Now you know my secret.” Her hand slides down, her fingers tease at the greater heat between Tsubasa’s thighs. “Don’t you think you owe me something in return?”

Tsubasa huffs a laugh that comes out a little bit breathless as it escapes her lips. “That’s not exactly charity.”

“My father is a businessman,” Senjougahara tells her. “Making a good deal is in my blood.” Her palm follows her fingers, sliding down to grind heat between Tsubasa’s legs. “The sign of a successful compromise is when everybody leaves happy.”

“Happy?”

Senjougahara’s hand slides back up. Tsubasa shudders as the pressure drags over her clit. “Satisfied.”

“Oh,” Tsubasa says. She takes a breath, lingering over it as she gazes at the far side of the shower. “So that’s the goal.” And she reaches across her body with her free hand to wind her fingers around Senjougahara’s wrist and slide the other girl’s hand back down towards the space between her thighs.

Senjougahara doesn’t need to be told twice. She moves as quickly as Tsubasa touches her, pressing her fingers between the other girl’s legs as she braces her thumb up to weight against Tsubasa’s clit. The friction of that alone is enough to tremble in Tsubasa’s thighs and tighten her hand to a fist against Senjougahara’s hair, but Senjougahara is moving as quickly as Tsubasa spends her breath into a gasp. Her fingers slide up, reaching to claim the heat of Tsubasa’s body for themselves, and as Senjougahara’s fingers press up into her Tsubasa finds herself moaning, the sound spilling from the depths of her chest to go liquid and hot in her throat as she sags back against the support of Senjougahara behind her. Senjougahara’s arm comes around her waist, banding tight to keep her on her feet, and Tsubasa relinquishes her urging hold on Senjougahara’s wrist in favor of clutching at the other girl’s forearm to steady herself upright as Senjougahara’s fingers work into her.

“Do you--” Tsubasa says, managing to free words from the tide of heat that seems to be rising from her own body, now, as much as from the water still spilling over them to trickle into the drain set into the floor between their feet. “Have you done this before?”

“Of course.” Senjougahara’s voice is still soft, pitched with consideration for how near she is to Tsubasa’s ear, but even with the sultry affect of volume the words take on the bland flat of dull honesty. If her fingers weren’t stroking up to fill the heat of Tsubasa’s body with aching sensation, Tsubasa would hardly believe they were even talking about the same thing. “Surely you don’t mean you’ve never made use of yourself like this?” Her thumb presses, drags. Tsubasa’s thighs quake in time with the thrum of her breathing spilling from her lips. “That explains the fire, I suppose.”

“I didn’t set anything on fire,” Tsubasa protests, but heat is blurring even this too-recent trauma and she can’t find edge enough to force herself to even the pretense of caring. “And of course I have.”

“You’ve touched yourself like this before, Hanekawa?” Senjougahara’s hand slides up from Tsubasa’s side to squeeze against the heat of her breast. “My, my. What  _ will _ Araragi say?”

“You will tell him,” Tsubasa says, a statement instead of a question. “I’m talking about with other people.” She pauses, deliberately rephrases. “Other girls.”

“You never know what might happen in shared showers,” Senjougahara says calmly. “There’s so much pent-up energy in high school. All those wet, naked bodies. Who’s to say when someone might slip and--” as she thrusts upwards with her fingers to finish the end of her sentence.

It takes a moment for Tsubasa to lay hand to coherency again, after that. “You said you weren’t like Kanbaru.”

“I did,” Senjougahara says. “I’m not. Kanbaru would take you out on a date, first.” Senjougahara twists her fingers in a way that arches Tsubasa’s shoulders and clenches her breath hard in her chest. “I just invited you over so I could fingerfuck you in my shower. On Araragi’s behalf, of course.”

Tsubasa laughs breathlessly. “Araragi wants to fingerfuck me in your shower?”

“Language, Hanekawa,” Senjougahara says. “This is my family’s home, really. Have some decency.”

“Of course,” Tsubasa says. “My apologies.”

“Yes,” Senjougahara says. “Of course he does. You’re the type of girl to make everyone’s fingers tingle just at the thought of fitting between your thighs.” Her hand drives up. Tsubasa’s head drops back against Senjougahara’s shoulder. Her breathing cracks on a moan. “Really, Hanekawa, what did I just say?”

“Your father’s not home,” Tsubasa reminds her. “There’s no one to hear.”

“I can hear.”

Tsubasa tips her head in towards Senjougahara next to her. “I know,” she says.

“Wow,” Senjougahara says. “You’re quite a vixen after all, aren’t you?”

“Mm,” Tsubasa says. She angles her knees open wider to give Senjougahara a better angle on the motion of her fingers. “Yes.”

“What a shock,” Senjougahara says, sounding not at all surprised. “Who would have ever guessed such a thing. Were you just in that abandoned schoolhouse hoping for someone to take advantage of you?”

“Someone did.”

“Now, now,” Senjougahara says. “I’m only doing this out of my love for Araragi. Obviously.”

Tsubasa laughs and slides her hand down the back of Senjougahara’s neck. “Obviously.”

“I’m incredibly self-sacrificing in that way,” Senjougahara tells her. “I’m practically a saint.”

“I can see that.”

“And feel it,” Senjougahara says. Her wrist flexes; when she next presses up with her fingers she couples the motion with a slide of her thumb that grinds friction against Tsubasa’s clit and seizes her breath on a gasp. “How does it feel, Hanekawa? For reference purposes, you understand.”

Tsubasa’s fingers dig into the heavy wet of Senjougahara’s hair to make a fist against the locks. She must be pulling with force enough to sting but Senjougahara doesn’t so much as catch her breath. “I do understand.”

“Does it feel good?” Senjougahara presses. “Am I doing a good job? I want to be praised, you understand. It’s a compulsion, I’ll do anything if someone will just tell me I’m doing well.”

Her fingers slide. Tsubasa quakes. “You are,” she blurts, speaking more readily than she meant to. One of her legs is trembling from how taut the muscles are drawn to press up against Senjougahara’s hand; Tsubasa shifts her foot wider and braces her toes tight against the textured bottom of the shower. She’s grateful to the arm banded around her middle holding her upright. She thinks both her legs could collapse at once and Senjougahara would sustain that absolute grip around her to fix her in place. “You’re doing very well, Senjougahara.”

“Thank you,” Senjougahara says in a perfectly flat tone. “You have no idea how much it means to hear that from you, who knows everything.”

“I don’t,” Tsubasa says. “I just--” and Senjougahara’s thumb grinds against her, and she loses her voice to a gasp that echoes against the walls of the shower around them. “_Oh_.”

“What’s that?” Senjougahara presses without relinquishing the force of her fingers stroking into Tsubasa or the weight of her thumb rubbing hard against the other’s clit. Her bracing arm around Tsubasa’s waist shifts to press against the underside of Tsubasa’s breasts; her fingers wander up to flex and squeeze against the soft give of one of them. “I didn’t quite catch that, Hanekawa.”

“I know…” Tsubasa starts, and Senjougahara flexes the fingers pressing inside her, and her vision goes white with the flare of heat that follows. Tsubasa’s fingers fist at Senjougahara’s hair, her grip at Senjougahara’s wrist tightens to drive her nails to traction against the other’s skin, and Senjougahara keeps moving, working against the tension rising into Tsubasa’s belly and flushing hot through her thighs and against her breasts, where her nipples have hardened to taut points under the spray of the water. Tsubasa gasps a breath that strains against the fixed grip Senjougahara has on her, and then Senjougahara’s thumb presses and Tsubasa is shouting, giving voice to some sensation too overwhelming to be captured in anything as limited as coherent speech. Her thighs quake, her spine arches, and she gives up her orgasm to the demand of Senjougahara’s fingers prying it from her with a demand too great to be ignored. Senjougahara holds Tsubasa still, and plies her with friction and heat and force, and Tsubasa shuts her eyes, and lets pleasure spill over her as easily as it finds voice for itself in the moans that take the place of her usually composed breathing.

Tsubasa finds her way back to herself through the tension at her fingers, the pressure of her wrists flexing to brace herself steady against the uncertainty of her position. She has a full fist of Senjougahara’s hair, is pulling hard enough to cant the other girl’s head forward over her shoulder; the nails of her other hand are dug in against Senjougahara’s skin where she clutched to steady herself as the strength of her legs went weak and helpless in the face of her orgasm. Tsubasa lets her hold on Senjougahara’s wrist go, wincing at the blood that washes to pink under the spray of the shower, but Senjougahara just tips her head to slide free of Tsubasa’s easing grip on her hair and shakes her head to toss the wet back from her face.

“Well that was certainly educational,” she says. Tsubasa gets her feet back under her, careful with her balance over unsteady legs, and Senjougahara slides her fingers back out of her so she can hold her hand up under the spray of the shower. Tsubasa watches the water run over Senjougahara’s hand, the rivulets forming paths around the other girl’s slender fingers, and she feels her face heat in answer without any further thought at all. Senjougahara lifts her hand and brings it up to push through Tsubasa’s damp hair and pull it back from the other’s face. “Who knew you would be a screamer?” Senjougahara leans in to dig the point of her chin against Tsubasa’s shoulder. “Is that one of those things you know, Hanekawa?”

Tsubasa shakes her head. “No,” she says. Her voice is raw in her throat; the words taste dark and smoky as they rasp over her tongue. “I didn’t.”

“Hmm,” Senjougahara hums. “How exciting. I love broadening horizons.” She steps out from behind Tsubasa to circle around the other girl and duck her head under the spray of the shower. The water urges her hair back from her face and runs smooth over her features; Senjougahara tips her head back under it, turning her face up to the spray as she pushes her hair back with easy grace. Tsubasa’s gaze touches at the part of her lips, the line of her neck, drawing down to follow the water along the slope of Senjougahara’s breasts and over her flat stomach to the shadow between legs long and pale and slick with the water running over them. She’s still looking when Senjougahara speaks again. “What about you, Hanekawa?”

Tsubasa looks up. Senjougahara is looking at her, now, her head tipped to gaze straight at Tsubasa without concern for the water still splashing over her. There are droplets of water caught at her lashes to darken the clear weight of her gaze; combined with Tsubasa’s absent glasses, it makes her look inscrutable, as if she might have an infinity of mysteries waiting behind the dark attention fixed on Tsubasa in front of her, as if she might be able to see through whatever façade Tsubasa puts up to protect her own secrets from discovery. Tsubasa meets Senjougahara’s gaze, feeling herself stripped far more thoroughly than the mere absence of her clothes could do, and then she breathes out a sigh, and gives the most sincere smile she can remember ever offering.

“I’m always interested in learning what I don’t know,” she says.

Senjougahara doesn’t smile in answer to Tsubasa’s expression; but she does tilt her head into a suggestion, and she stands still as Tsubasa steps forward to join her under the splash of the water around them. When Tsubasa shuts her eyes Senjougahara’s mouth finds hers with unerring certainty, and Tsubasa thinks that is better even than a smile would be. ****


End file.
